


a crack runs down the front of me

by hayspecks



Series: no harm [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Movie, Reference to Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 20:38:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9256046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hayspecks/pseuds/hayspecks
Summary: “Credence,” the relief was palpable in Graves’ voice, “Newt is very worried about you.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> loosely inspired by [this lovely fanart](http://robinhess.tumblr.com/post/154155802752).

Credence woke from a nap on a park bench a shivering mess. He had nothing to protect him with against the cold biting January air but the coat Newt Scamander had lent him.

Teeth clattering, he clambered to his feet, unsteady and so tired. He staggered to a small clearing where various bushes and tree trunks better hid his pathetic attempts at warming up from anyone who’d happen to pass by. It was rare to see the sun during winter months but a few rays had filtered through the gaps in the clouds and Credence was mesmerized.

A small pop sounded close by and Credence whipped around, panicked. Percival Graves was right there a few feet away, hair in disarray and looking he hadn’t slept the night.

“Credence,” the relief was palpable in Graves’ voice, “Newt is very worried about you.”

“Y-you’re lying.” That was the last thing Credence had expected to hear. Mainly because the memory of last night where he had almost killed Newt in his Obscurus form was so fresh in his mind. He had noted the moment grim termination on Newt’s face had given way to terror, to helplessness. He had noted the marks he had left on Newt’s body. He had noted the brittle smile and the thin line his lips were set when he thought he was not looking. It wasn’t something he was likely to forget anytime soon.

Credence didn’t deserve forgiveness when he lashed out so violently against someone who had been nothing but kind, someone who had done so much for him.

_An unfortunate accident, my boy_ , that’s what Newt had called it, a delicate smile on his lips.

_Please, don’t be discouraged,_

_It was my fault really._

_I’m so sorry, Credence._

“I wouldn’t lie to you. Believe me. Newt is beside himself since you left and very sorry about what happened. He says he didn’t mean to scare you off but,” there Mr. Graves trailed off. “But if you didn’t want to return, something else can be arranged.”

Hope swelled within him but he squashed, mercilessly, and shook his head. “I can’t go back.”

“Yes, you can.” The passion in Mr. Graves’ voice was something that threw Credence for a loop.

“I’m dangerous,” Credence warned.

“So am I,” Graves countered.

“No, it’s n-not the same. You are n-not in danger of destroying half a city when you’re u-upset.”

Graves winced. “I get your point but please listen. It is not your fault a powerful parasitical force is residing within you feeding off your magic.” Graves ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “You are still in process of learning control it and though I’m angry at Newt for recklessly trying something untested alone, it’s okay that you messed up. Newt doesn’t blame you. _I_ don’t blame you.”

Credence shook his head vigorously. He didn’t trust forgiveness so easily given. He didn’t trust himself either.

“I-I’m a monster.” He should be punished accordingly. Some things his Ma found sinful were something he couldn’t change and yet that hadn’t stopped her from handing out punishment like she did advice.

“You’re anything but a monster, Credence. Your obscurus was born out of terrible conditions, the suppression of your power so damaging that it formed to both protect you and leech off you.”

“But I can’t control it still. I’m weak and pathetic and not worth any of your time. I’m not—I noticed you know how you cannot even look at me directly anymore.” It had been a painful realization since the last week.

“That’s not the same.”

Credence felt a pang of hurt of how Graves didn’t even try to deny it. “How is that not the same? You wish me gone, yet you let me stay, yet you agree to look for me.”

“Credence, that’s not true. I have _never_ thought that.”

“Then what is the truth?” Bitterness crept in his voice. He had been lied too many times.

Graves was silent for a while as he seemed to mull over the question. “Credence, I’m sorry for what you had to go through and for what you’re still going through—”

Credence, on the brink of panicking still, tuned him out. It sounded a lot like he’d explain how sorry he was and everything and then say that he didn’t want to see him ever again. Credence didn’t think he could take hearing that.

Credence was helpless to stop the darkness surging up from deep within him, expanding and overtaking. Soon he’d splinter like a broken glass in pieces so small and deadly he wouldn’t be able to count how much of him there were.

In a desperate attempt to stop it, he covered his eyes and thought to conjure a memory he was fond of.  A cold breath of winter wind brushed over him as he stood there, fearing his insides turning to the pitch black darkness of the monster that resided within him still after weeks of weeks of Newt Scamander working to separate him from this Obscurus. By now he had come to understand it was an essential part of him however destructive and damaging, and yet he wanted it gone with ferocity he didn’t think he could feel.

“Please leave. Please leave. _Please_ ,” he chanted over and over again, hoping that his voice carried to where Graves was standing. He hoped he’d heed his warning. He wanted him safe; he wanted him very far away from the destruction that Credence was soon to turn into.

He was on the brink, his form splintering at the ends, wisps of inky black smoke growing out of him like weed. He balled his hands in fists so tight his fingernails were digging in the soft flesh of his palms and knuckles were white.

He was not worth it.

He was not enough.

He was a waste.

He was useless.

He was a _monster_.

He was—

A feather light touch to his balled fists cut short his self-flagellation. He inhaled sharply. A wondrous feeling this, a touch so light and careful, but Credence didn’t deserve kindness, didn’t deserve anything gentle. He took a step back, broke the connection, though his heart ached. It ached so much for him to instead step in Graves’ arms and put his arms around him and not let go.

“Credence. Credence? Please. Can I?” Credence didn’t understand what he was asking of him until he saw his outstretched arms.

It was a request for a touch. A plea. Hope was clearly visible in Graves’ eyes. Credence hesitated, the want for another touch so strong he was breathless with it.

He nodded jerkily.

Graves approached, took his hands in his, coaxing the fists to loosen and Credence dropped his eyes to look at the larger capable hands cradling his. Shivering a little, he lifted his eyes and met Graves’. They were the most beautiful shade of brown that Credence had ever seen. But then Graves something Credence had never expected of him. Not breaking the contact, Graves slowly sank to his knees

“You deserve the world, Credence,” Graves spoke in a soft voice.

Credence stared at him, uncomprehending, why would he think of doing that but more importantly, why he was looking at Credence like he— like he had hung the stars and the moon, like he’d give him everything if he as much crooked his little finger. He couldn’t find any more sufficient description for his vocabulary felt inadequate for a situation as this.

“Mr. Graves, what are you doing? Please, get up. Y-you’ll get your clothes dirty.” Credence, spurred in motion by worry, tugged on his sleeves but the man refused to budge.

His question went unanswered as Graves reached for his left hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed the palm, eyes closed and lips lingering. Credence was speechless. The touch felt beyond what he could ever have conjured even in the best of his dreams.

“Please,” he muttered, his lips just a breath away from Credence’s skin, “call me Percival.”

“It’s not – I mean. Percival, I—” Credence’s thoughts were scattered and he didn’t know anymore where he was going with that sentence so he gladly let Gr—no, Percival continue in his stead.

“Credence, I don’t think you realize but you worth so much to me and I’m so sorry. I feel so fucking ashamed of what he did to you while using _my face_. You had to suffer so much because I wasn’t strong enough to defeat Grindelwald. Fuck, I was so self assured and yet,” Percival broke off, laying another light kiss on the inside of Credence’s wrist just on the pulse point where he surely could feel his heart beating like crazy.

It was madness, surely.

His Ma would’ve had him beaten bloody if she had ever— but she was not here. She was not here and he didn’t have to suffer from her hand ever again.

As he lifted his eyes to Percival’s face, he was already looking back at him. “Forgive me, Credence.”

“There is nothing t-to forgive.” A truth. The whole situation with Grindelwald had been out of Percival’s hands loath as Percival was to admit it, placing blame solely on his own shoulders. “You had been nothing but kind to me, meanwhile he was the one manipulating me.”

A kiss on the inside of his wrist. “But he wore my face. He looked through my memories and found you important to me. You have every reason to be angry at me.”

Peppering kisses on the inside of his palm, Percival was making it incredibly hard for him to think. He felt intoxicated, in a daze under such attention. Hope that had been hiding just under his breast burst free and Credence let himself believe in Percival’s words. He let himself imagine how’d be if Percival returned his affections.

He was really receptive to touch, he knew and maybe Percival was just that adamant to get him back and Credence was reading too much into it, putting way too much significance in a gesture that meant little.

 “It’s not your fault as much,” there Credence trailed off, swallowed, having hard time letting words pass his lips, “as much Obscurus is my fault.”

In response to that, Percival wrapped his arms around Credence’s middle and buried his face in his stomach. “Will you return to Newt’s?”

Credence wanted to with all of his heart and he let himself be selfish for once, very much still afraid that he was making a mistake. “Yes.”

In response Percival abruptly got to his feet, a relieved smile on his lips, cradled his cheeks between his palms and kissed him squarely on the lips. 

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if this is a mess. please tell me if there is any glaring errors. :)


End file.
